Time For A Change
by onmyside
Summary: At New Year's Eve 1925 Charles Carson and Elsie Carson decide to give their new live a try - Charles Carson is about to retire in the course of the new year. He does not know when and how and is afraid of taking the final step, which means leaving Downton, his family, the life he knows, behind. - 2017 NaNoWriMo entry. Expect Carson/Hughes fluff only! Including mild T-ness
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note:** _As you can see - I AM BACK from the dead! This fanfic is my entry for this year's NaNoWriMo (2017) and it is a finished story. So unlike my 2013 entry, you will get an entire wrapped up fanfic full of Chelsie Fluff. Enjoy reading! Oh and: I might have jumped between different tenses and there might be plenty of typos... whoever wants to beta it: please let me know :) Thank you!_

Chapter 1 – January 1926

The heavy doors of the castle are closed, locked with the large iron-wrought key he always brings upstairs with him once the family has retired for the night. It is too large and bulky to be carried in his waistcoat pocket. Elsie had, at one time, suggested adding it to the ring of keys he keeps for the silver vault and the wine cellar. But he refused. This particular one had to be kept on its own, on its own hook at the wall next to his desk.

He removes the key from the keyhole, makes a mental note that the lock needs a bit of oil. For decades now this routine has been the final task of his long workday. He will miss it when one day is successor takes his place. Being in charge of the huge, old key, making sure all doors are locked for the night has always given him a sense of belonging. Of course he is aware that this house is not his property, he does not own a thing inside the castle aside from a few books and other small items he had accumulated over the many years while living here. But as butler he treats everything the Crawleys own with the utmost respect, as if all the inanimate objects were his.

He holds the key tightly in his hand, checks the door once more, makes sure it really _is_ locked, then turns off the lights and heads back downstairs. His steps echo through the quiet and empty stairway. He holds on to the bannister, to steady his descent a bit. All these years of climbing up and down the many stairs of the castle are slowly taking its toll. Or maybe the signs have been there earlier, the left knee sometimes hurting a bit, his shoulders sore in the evening. But he always had this bad habit of ignoring the sure sings of getting older until last year, when the tremors began. He grips the key even harder. Better not brood over this topic now.

He directs his thoughts to something more pleasant. Elsie is probably already waiting for him and impatiently keeping an eye on the clock. It has been another long day in this first week of the New Year. They both deserve to be in the warmth of their own home now. And he will soon open and close the last door of this day: the one to his own cottage, where the key belongs to them, where the furniture, the crockery, the pictures on the walls and the books on the shelves in the living room make up their collective belongings. And these things will stay with him for the rest of his life, no matter what happens in the near future, in his job, at this magnificent house he has been working at for so long. Both, the Abbey and their little cottage mean the world to him. A year ago he would never have thought anything could replace the Abbey on its pedestal he had created for it in his heart. Or that he would actually live somewhere else than in his attic bedroom. Of course, after he had proposed to her, he had known that things would change, had to change at some point. Yet he had not been able to think so far ahead, plan so far in advance for this own, private future. He never had to before.

He passes through the final doorway that leads down into the servant's quarters; he turns to walk down the dimply lit corridor towards his pantry. She is standing in the doorway, coat and hat in hand, and smiles warmly at him. Her lovely, kind face raises his spirits immediately.

"I heard you coming." She stands on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. It's a small gesture, one she often uses during the day to cheer him up, or to say sorry without words. And he loves her even more for it, for her closeness, the easiness of the kiss. "It's time we go home. You need some rest."

He caresses her cheek gently, takes the offered coat and his bowler then helps her into her own overcoat. "Goodnight Mr Barrow." Charles puts the large key onto _his_ desk where the underbutler has waited for him. "Put it away safely and please make sure the back door is properly locked."

"Of course Mr Carson. And a good night to you, too. I'll do the breakfast in the morning so there's no need for you to be here early."

Charles furrows his brow, is about to tell Thomas that of course he will be there at the usual time! But the look on his wife's face tells him not to argue about this topic.

"Thank you for the offer." Although it has probably been more a command from Elsie to make sure he gets a bit of well-earned rest after the busy and eventful New Year's celebrations. So he accepts the offer without further hesitation.

The stars are out that night. Not a single cloud covers the sky above their heads. They walk arm in arm down the snow covered path that leads to their cottage. No words are exchanged between them, she rest her head on his upper arm, keeps close by his side. He can feel the warmth of her body next to his own and is looking forward to lying down and fall asleep with her embraced in his arms. That is also _home_ to him, a different definition of the word, one he had not known a year ago but it has easily become his most cherished feeling of home.

When the cottage comes into view, Elsie speaks the first words since they have left the Abbey. "It is good to be home."

For his home she holds the key tonight. Where he has closed the door at work, ended their workday at the big house by locking the impressive front door, she now rings in the hours of free time. It is their moment of freedom, of letting go of their professional selves. He never had that opportunity until their marriage and now that the days of his working life are numbered, he has come to appreciate the two or three hours in the evenings that only belong to them. They usually read a book over some tea. Sometimes they go straight to bed, especially when they day at the Abbey has been long and tiresome.

Yet he still craves the busy and stressful hours spent at the big house. He is not ready to live without it completely. He still needs a while to get used to the thought that Mr Barrow will follow in his footsteps. Charles heaves a sigh, steps over the threshold into the warmth of the little cottage. Time will tell whether he has made the right decision. For now it feels as if he has. Albeit with a heavy heart.

"It'll be a different life." – "But we can make a go of it Charlie. And I definitely mean to try."

She had said that at New Years, and she had meant it wholeheartedly. Every single word of it. Of course their life together will change once he stops working and even more so when she decides to hand over the key to a new housekeeper. But change is not always a bad thing. They prove that every day. Ten years ago no one would have thought that a butler could actually be married and still serve the family who employs him. They are no longer living the life of the Victorians or the Edwardians. Young girls work in shops now, in factories, are more independent and some of them do not even marry and live on their own, or so she has heard from Lady Edith. Elsie is not sure she approves of this new independence in general but she admires the courage of these young women.

She has never really thought about the path she had chosen for herself so many years ago. Unlike many young women of her generation and social status she has had a choice: marriage and life on a farm or going into service. Both _careers_ meant long working hours and hardship as well as little reward. But service, as opposed to farm work, additionally offered the possibility to climb the social ladder within one field of work. And she had therefore chosen the option that allowed her to move away from her old life and that promised a secure income.

The life she leads now is already the second major change she is going through. She is better at adapting to a new routine because she has done it before. Whereas he has always lived within the shadows of the Abbey. Charles' one attempt to break free, to walk down a different path had failed decades ago. Elsie can understand, can empathize with him that his negative experience might be reason why he is so afraid of breaking out of his daily routine. Who guarantees him that it will all be different this time, that he will lead a happy life from now on? That he is not alone anymore?

The answer is easy for her: because they have learned from previous mistakes, because they are not a young, naïve couple. They have weathered so many storms together already. This last obstacle won't ruin their well-earned retirement. She can handle his illness, they will both learn to live with it, this tremor. And as far as Doctor Clarkson knows, the chances are not that bad that Charles won't be affected as bad as his father or grandfather.

Elsie forces herself not to dwell on these thoughts tonight. It is their spare free time together. She wants to make the most of it.

"I'll make us some tea. Would you mind and rekindle the fire? I had asked one of the hallboys to start it earlier but it must have gone out again." She pats his shoulder to get his attention then places another small kiss on his cold cheek before heading towards their small kitchen.

She definitely means to try!

* * *

TBC

I would love to hear what you think about this first chapter. Please, if you like, leave a comment :)


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: thank you so much for your kind words and for your support! Here's chapter two :) - Enjoy reading. (I am not sure I spotted all the typos... I hope I did)_

 **Chapter 2**

"Charles! Your grandfather needs your help!" His mother's voice echoes through the stableyard. "Be quick!" He had so hoped to be left alone today. School had been bothersome enough and right after their quick luncheon he had hidden up in the hayloft with a copy of Burke's Peerage. He still sits there, the book resting on his lap, when his mother's call reaches him.

"Charles! You can read your book this evening." Her voice is coming nearer. There is no escaping her so in order to not give away his favourite hiding place, Charles closes the book and climbs down the ladder, removes bits of hay from his clothes and his hair. She must not find out that he takes his Lordship's books with him to the stables. How many times did she lecture him already? They are expensive, they are valuable, they are not yours! He knows all of that but books are meant to be read after all. And he takes especially good care of the leather bound volumes he is allowed to borrow from the Abbey's library. "Burke's Peerage" and the "History of Great Britain" are his favourite. He wraps the former safely in a piece of waxed cloth his father gave him for his birthday. It is an old piece, smells a bit of stables and horses but it is immensely practical!

Charles steps out through the back door and slowly, carefully so as to not make a sound, walks around the building towards his mother's voice. There is another piece of hay on the sleeve of his jacket and he quickly removes it seconds before his mother turns around and spots him.

"There you are! Your grandfather needs your help. Be quick, he is over at the house. We will wait with dinner."

Charles rolls his eyes but does not comment. He usually does what he is told and he likes his grandfather but he also likes his reading, the few moments of spare time he is allowed after luncheon before they expect him back indoors to help with whatever needs doing. In a few months he will finish school and start working as a junior hallboy. So every hour he has for himself is precious right now. He jogs over to the big house, runs through the backyard, jumps over one of the fishmonger's upturned wooden crates and skids to a halt in front of the black back door. Out of breath he rings the bell and waits for someone (usually a footman) to open the door.

It does not take long before a familiar face appears in the doorway. "Ah, Charlie! Your grandfather…", George, second footman, cannot finish his sentence because Charles rushes past him, "… needs my help. I know." He slows down before the butler's pantry, straightens his back to avoid a stern comment from his grandfather about his lack of manners. Then he knocks and immediately enters.

"There you are my boy." His grandfather sits behind the impressive old oak desk, inventory ledgers opened in front of him. Charles notices that some of the ink is spilled across a page. It does not blot it entirely but he knows his grandfather: everything has to be perfect, pristine.

"His Lordship has asked me to do the yearly inventory of the wine cellar a bit earlier." The old man stops, takes a deep breath as if to steady himself for what he is about to say next. "Before I am no longer able to fulfil this duty and they hire a successor to take on my position." There is bitterness in his voice. Charles watches his grandfather carefully. Grey hair, straight back, clean shaven face, nothing is out of place, there is not a speck of dust anywhere, no creases in his clothing. He is the perfect image of a butler.

"Lets not dwell on that now, Charlie", he pushes himself out of his chair. "We have work to do."

"Yes grandfather."

He gestures at the open ledgers, a sign for Charles to take them and the ink bottle and pen before they leave the butler's pantry and climb down into the wine cellar.

Charles is actually too young to assist the butler, this is more a job for a footman but his grandfather trusts no one more than his own grandson. Together they descend the stairs. The cellar is dark and cool and smells of stale air. In the semi darkness Charles lights the small oil lamp that is always kept on the side table at the end of the stairs.

"It won't take long. I promise. You are a quick learner and a quick worker. Your mother will have you back by dinner." His grandfather gently pats his shoulder and Charles feels how the large hand slightly shakes. That is the reason why he is here now instead of reading the books up in the hayloft. His grandfather calls it the palsy, his hands tremble, he cannot keep them steady anymore. Pouring wine at dinner is now a task for the first footman, polishing the silver is in the capable hands of the second footman and himself. The ledgers are still kept by Edward Carson because on some days he can hold his right hand steady enough to write. But sometimes the housekeeper has to help him out. Or he asks Charles to come over from the stables. Just like today.

Today his illness has betrayed him once more. The ink blots were proof enough for Charles. So for the next three hours he fills his grandfather's ledgers in his meticulous, fine handwriting. It lacks the elegance and flourished style of the older man but Charles has learned to copy the butler's handwriting at least to some degree. Besides, Lord Grantham would never be able to distinguish between Carson's and a footman's hand anyway.

While his grandfather carefully turns the bottles, avoids taking them out of the boxes or remove them from the shelves, always afraid of accidentally dropping one, Charles concentrates on making no mistakes. He knows the names of the fine wines by now, knows how to spell them. French, Spanish, German. He has had a good teacher.

When they have finished their tasks his eyes hurt and his hand as well from holding tight onto the pen for so long. The daylight is blinding him once they have climbed the stairs and leave the cellar. The butler closes the door behind them and he tries to lock it but the shaking is even more pronounced now than earlier. Charles believes that this is a result of the exertion, the effort it took his grandfather to move ever so carefully during their inventory taking.

"Shall I do it?" He asks quietly. Wordlessly his grandfather hands over the key, pats his grandchild's shoulder again before he turns around and disappears into his pantry.

He stretches out his hand, flexes his fingers to ease the pain. It is early morning and still so dark outside that his eyes need a moment before they can see anything. Their bedroom is warm, Elsie is still asleep next to him, her back turned towards the wall, her breath tickling the naked skin of his left shoulder. He tries to keep his right hand steady, holds it up in the air, takes deep breaths, concentrates on the ever-present tremor. It stops for a moment then starts again, if only slightly. It is not yet as pronounced as his grandfathers or father's palsy. And both were much younger than him when the first symptoms started. If he is honest with himself he can call himself lucky. He is not alone, has a wife and friends, people who care for him, who support him. And his body is not affected by gout or rheumatism. Although sometimes his knees and back hurt they do not bother him persistently, are not a constant source of pain.

He clenches his hand into a fist, opens it again, concentrates once more, and breathes in and out. The shaking lessens a bit. It is a method Elsie has taught him in a hope to calm him, to allow him to let go of his stressful day. Sometimes she massages his hand or simply holds it. Especially after a very long day he can no longer keep his hand steady. He has noticed that a while ago but during Christmas and New Year's things got so bad that he could no longer hide his condition. Not from Elsie, not from Lady Mary and in the end it had all led to the decision he is now trying to come to terms with.

Mr Barrow will take his place. He will be butler of Downton Abbey soon. Charles will teach him the final secrets of his job. It could take weeks or months. He has been given as much time as he needs by Lord Grantham. Selfishly he hopes that the weeks will turn into months, into a year, a year and a half perhaps. He cannot let go of his first home so quickly.

Once more he clenches his hand, opens it and moves his fingers one by one before turning to lie down on his side again, facing his sleeping wife. His bad hand tucks away a strand of stray hair that has come loose from her braid.

Elsie stirs gently but does not wake up. He kisses her forehead, puts an arm around her, wants to be as close to her as possible right now. "I love you," he whispers before he falls asleep again.

She wakes when the first sunrays filter through the curtains. His arm lies pleasantly heavy on her body, keeping her close to him, warm and safe. He snores gently and is so relaxed that Elsie cannot feel his hand twitch. She snuggles closer into his side, wishes he could be that relaxed in daytime. They have both noticed very early on that stress makes his tremor worse and that when he is at home with her, it lessens. It is probably not a cure for his condition but it makes it more bearable.

Elsie wishes she could stay like this for the rest of the morning, embraced in his arms, her body covered by the thick duvet, her head resting on the soft pillow. But they have work to do. She checks the alarm clock on the bedside table and is immediately wide-awake when she realizes her mistake. They have overslept by an hour! To her recollection this has never happened before. Even during their honeymoon their inner clocks had woken them early in the morning, sometimes to their own amusement when their night had been especially short. They are both so used to getting up early that they both wake up automatically at the same time each morning. Decades of an identical routine cannot be unlearned after a year of marriage. She gently nudges her husband. When there is no reaction she kisses his nose. Charles grunts and turns away from her. Poor man. He must be so exhausted after the last two weeks. With Christmas and New Year's Eve now behind them he has probably allowed himself, unconsciously of course, to finally let go of everything for one night.

She decides to get out of bed and prepare a small breakfast then wake her husband properly. They are lucky that Mr Barrow is taking care of the upstairs breakfast today. Charles is not expected at the big house until 9am or even 9:30am. They will notice his absence at breakfast but she is sure that no one will worry about them. And she also hopes that there won't be any gossip among the new maids! They haven't been with them long enough to know the entire history of the house. Besides, gossip prevents them from carrying out their work properly. After all: she cannot have a lie in! She is still employed as housekeeper full time with a few exceptions of course but being late is not acceptable when it comes to her job and duties.

The fire in the kitchen stove is still smouldering and she rekindles the embers, puts the kettle on and prepares their coffee. It will revive them both and make their now rather rushed morning routine a bit easier.

He is still half asleep when she returns to the bedroom. "Charles, darling. It really is time for us to get ready." She strokes his unruly hair, kisses his forehead and now he finally opens his eyes. "Good morning."

Elsie can see it in his eyes, wide with realization that he knows that something is not the way it should be. "What time is it?" It is too bright outside in comparison to their usual January mornings. The sun has already risen.

"It is a quarter to eight, my dear", she informs him calmly. As expected he tries to rush out of bed immediately but Elsie stops him. "There is no need to worry. Remember what we agreed upon last night? Thomas is handling the family's breakfast this morning."

It does not fully convince him, she can see it on his face. His expression is a mixture between confusion and embarrassment. "We might be a bit late but it is nothing to worry about."

He sits on the side of the bed, still a bit drowsy from a good night's rest.

"Thank you." Is all he says before he takes her hand and kisses it gently. "Thank you for letting me sleep. I guess I needed it?"

Elsie is not fully convinced by his sudden change of mind. But there is that tiny, almost mischievous smile he so rarely shows. Maybe he actually is alright and has accepted their unusual situation this morning.

"There is some fresh coffee downstairs."

"What would I do without you?"

* * *

TBC.

Thank you so much for all your kind words and for your support 3


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thank you so so so much for all your kind words and your reviews and reblogs 3. And I am also glad you liked the flashback to Charles's past. I have explored his backstory as well as Elsie's in a different fic but ever since he said that the tremors finished his father's and grandfather's careers I thought that his grandfather must've been in service too. Why not make him butler._

 **Chapter 3**

In the end they have only missed the servant's breakfast and no one has wondered aloud why they were late. Her maids whisper something behind her back when Elsie enters the servant's hall but she is sure that is has nothing to do with the butler's illness, their marriage or their late appearance. It is what young women do: gossip about this and that and she cannot see any harm in it as long as it is not about anyone in the Crawley's household. One stern glance and they are silenced and she sends them on their rounds for the morning.

Charles on the other hand has straightaway disappeared into his pantry, has not even wished them all a good morning. Something that is very unlike him. The relaxed state he had been in when still asleep has completely vanished. She sees how tensed up he is every time she passes his open door, how his brow is furrowed in concentration. He cannot forgive himself for being late. That small smile she has seen on his face before they left has only been there to calm her nerves. Elsie sighs. He knows that there was no harm done, that the family would have approved. Thomas has proven that he is reliable when it comes to it. Over the past few days since they have announced that the former underbutler would take on the position as butler, Elsie has seen a most welcomed change in Thomas' behaviour and appearance. But then she always knew that he had the perseverance that it takes to be butler. Despite all the scheming, the gossiping and the foul play in the past, she has always seen behind his façade, could see the lost boy that simply wanted to belong, to be part of a family.

This morning has been his first real test. And he has passed it with flying colours.

When Elsie passes Charles' pantry for the fourth time that morning and still sees him sitting there, almost motionless, rigid, concentrating on one of the many ledgers he has to keep, she can no longer ignore the miserable look on his face.

"Care for some early tea and a few of Mrs Patmore's delicious biscuits?"

He does not react; his mind seems to be elsewhere. Elsie enters the room; steps right in front of his desk and repeats her question. He startles, as if she has woken him from some day dream.

"Do you think we have made the right decision?" He looks straight into her eyes now and it breaks her heart to see him so sad all of a sudden, so lost. He had been fine in the morning, a bit worried but not as downcast as he is now.

"Yes, I do. And may I tell you why?" She walks around the desk and sits down on the edge of it, taking his right hand, the one that bothers him so much, into hers. "You are not alone in this. We are a couple now. And I want us to live a long and happy life. And if that means that we have to change certain aspects of it then so be it. But I rather have a happy, retired husband than an overworked and miserable butler by my side."

There is a moment of silence between them. She carefully massages his hand which lies warm and heavy on her lap. Charles alternately watches her fingers then looks up into her face again. She can feel that the tension leaves his body at least a bit. He opens his mouth, takes a deep breath, closes it again. Elsie can wait, she does not want to push him. Not today. There is no need to add more pressure.

"I don't want to be a failure in your eyes. Or in the family's eyes." His voice is quiet. "I've served in this house for over forty years, Elsie. And this is how it should end?" He points at his hand.

"You are not a failure. Lord Grantham is very grateful for everything you have done. And you know that, Charles. Isn't it better to leave when you can walk out with your head held high than in a coffin." She swallows, does not want this image to enter her mind.

He simply nods. But he still owes her an answer.

"Do you think he will get over this? All of it? I mean, Mr Barrow can be nice. He's good with the children. But do you think he really fits into this role?" Mrs Patmore pours another cup of tea, hands her a scone.

"Haven't we discussed this already, Mrs Patmore? What choice does he have? What choice do we have?" She adds some milk, stirs her tea. "It is difficult for him. Still, we need to give him some time to adjust."

"You are not really convinced, aren't you?" Mrs Patmore purses her lips. "Do you think he will not leave you alone at your cottage? Will tell you how things are done properly?"

For the first time in a week Elsie has to laugh out loud. The cook is referring to that time in the previous year when Charles thought he would help his wife by telling her how to make a bed in the correct and proper way, sharp edges and everything, or how to cook a dinner that was up to his standards, or rather Mrs Patmore's. Always forgetting that she had worked as many hours as him over the course of the day and wanted nothing more than to sit down and not think about linen, how to make a soup or the proper way of preparing coffee anymore. They had found a way to solve this first huge disagreement and since then their private life is based on respect, love and sharing (and solving) their problems by talking about them.

"Believe me, he has learned his lesson and we have found a very good way of living together without arguing about unimportant things." Elsie has to phrase her next sentence carefully to avoid more nagging questions from the cook. "To answer your question: I am convinced we've made the right decision. But we both have to find a way to make this work. You know how he is: changing his routine is not easy for him. And he's only had a week to come to terms with the new situation so far." One week, she thinks, with good moments and with bad, dark moments. But no one needs to know about those.

With a loud crash the ink well hits the ground. The blue liquid quickly spreads across the stone tiles, soaks the carpet underneath the desk chair. He had only meant to pick it up to refill his fountain pen, now he watches in shock how the ink ruins the floor of his pantry. He cannot move, only stares at the blue pool at his feet.

"Mr Carson! Are you alright?" It is Daisy's head that appears in the doorway all of a sudden. He tries to find his speech, wants to send her away, to avoid that she sees the mess he has made.

"Mr Carson? Do you want me to get Mrs Hughes?" Daisy looks even more worried now after he has not answered her first question.

"No Daisy. I can manage. Everything's fine." He hopes that his voice sounded convincing enough, strong and a bit gruff, just like he always sounds. The look on Daisy's face however tells him that this has not been the case at all.

"I will get her." And the young cook vanishes from view without a further comment. He hears her running down the corridor towards Elsie's sitting room. Charles holds on to his desk, his shaking hand turning white from the forceful grip. But at least it is no longer shaking, stays still. Thoughts run through his mind. Why did he leave the door open? Why didn't he simply send Daisy away or stop her? Now she will tell Mrs Patmore and within an hour the entire house will know what a weak and sick man he actually is. He fears the embarrassment already. Anger wells up inside him and he can feel the tears running down his cheeks. He should really shut the doors, no one can see him like this or he will be the laughing-stock for the rest of life.

With much effort he lets go of the desk, determined now to shut himself in for the day, when Elsie enters his pantry. Her eyes wide with fear, her face flushed. She immediately closes the door behind her. Then walks over to the second one, shuts it too before she rushes to his side.

"Charles! What has happened? Please, talk to me."

He cannot talk, walks around his desk instead to sit down in his red armchair.

"Charles! Please!" She kneels down in front of him, searches his eyes for an explanation and he simply nods in the direction of his desk where the floor is covered with the blue, sticky liquid. Elsie follows his gaze.

"Did the ink well fall to the floor? Is that it?" He notices how she sighs deeply, how some of the tension leaves her body. But he stills feels guilty.

"I cannot do the simplest tasks anymore. Not with this bloody hand!" he says through clenched teeth. "Cannot lift a simple ink well without making a fool of myself."

Elsie stands up, takes the wooden chair from the small table by the door and sits down in front of him. "Anyone could have dropped it. How many times do you think Daisy has dropped a plate? Or how often Mrs Patmore burnt her scones?"

She takes both his hands again, just like she had in the morning. "We will clean up the mess and talk no more about it."

"The house will talk, Elsie." He feels miserable, helpless. "After all, Daisy saw me."

Elsie bites her lip and he can see how much she pushes herself to be strong and not cry in front of him. Her left hand reaches out, touches his faces, wipes away the tears.

"Daisy is not a little girl anymore. I told her to treat this incident with the necessary discretion." Then she leans closer and kissed him softly on the lips.

"I love you, Charlie Carson."

They sit like this for a while, in silence, Elsie massaging his right hand carefully. No one knocks on the door, no one interrupts them. In this always busy house that is a rare incident. Slowly Charles recovers from the shock. But in the back of his mind he cannot suppress that feeling of no longer belonging to this house anymore. He has outstayed his welcome. The naïve dream of staying for at least a year in his post before handing over the keys and responsibility to Mr Barrow was a ridiculous one. He should have known better.

Elsie suddenly smiles to herself.

"Penny for your thoughts, my dear?"

She looks up from his hand. "Do you remember the first time I held your hand?"

Of course he does. He will never forget that moment or that day. It had been the start of what they have now, the last sign he had needed from her. Before that day Charles had often thought about _them_ as a couple but had never been sure whether she felt the same.

"That day by the seaside." He can understand why she smiles, even wants to return it but there is still that pressure on his chest, the tension has not completely left his body. "You told me that you will always hold my hand…"

"…if it makes you feel steady. Yes, Charlie, and look what I am doing now." She kisses the back of his hand. "Making you feel steady."

"You convinced me that walking into the ocean with you would be a good idea." Slowly the memories of that day, the sunshine, cold salt water and the freedom he had felt, flood his mind, push the bad thoughts away.

"Wasn't it?"

"I remember that you later complained about the wet seams of your skirt." A tiny smile plays on his lips.

"Oh you!" She slaps his chest playfully. "That cannot be the only thing you remember."

"I wanted you to never let go of my hand. "He has never told her that before. At first had felt as if everyone was watching them that day. Had dreaded the gossip, had spent the first hour of their day at the beach with trying to find a good reason why he was walking along the beach barefoot – unlike everyone else. But the moment she took his hand it was all forgotten Let them talk, let them think whatever they like. He slowly realizes now that he is in a similar situation today. Charles is afraid of people talking about him behind his back, of losing their respect. But would they really think about him like that? Would they really dare to laugh about him?

Elsie is right. It could have happened to anyone. He knows that his tremor was responsible but he is more than that shaking hand. He is a man of integrity and honour, has held the position as butler for decades. The staff respects him, they look up to him as the head of the household.

"And you never have to let go. I will keep you steady." Elsie wakes him from his pondering. "Mrs Patmore has prepared our tea. Would you like to join the others for a cup?"

Now he genuinely smiles. "Yes. And then one of the maids can perhaps clean up the mess."

* * *

TBC

 _Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter :)_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N Just a tiny update! Longer one will follow tomorro or on Tuesday. Thank you again for all your wonderful reviews. Sadly I haven't found the time to reply to each and every one. But I wanted to let you know that it makes me very happy to read all of them and that you like the story thus far._

Chapter 04

His grandfather has joined them for dinner. The old man sits at the head of the table, smoking his pipe while Charles' father tells him everything about last week's hunt. Butler and head groom of Downton Abbey share a laugh and Charles listens with interest to their stories about the local aristocrats. He tries to memorize all the names and titles, the lineage, the connections to the Crawleys and the Royal Family in particular. Charles has read Burke's Peerage, recognizes many of the families and is fascinated by what his father and grandfather have to say about them. He wishes he could ask his grandfather questions about all these people but the butler has told him once that a good butler never gossips about his employers guests. He listens, he memorizes and remembers. That is all.

"You will soon meet some of these people yourself, Charles." His grandfather suddenly addresses him directly. "Not long now and you can start your work at the house. Are you excited?"

In April, when school ends, Charles will indeed go into service and as a matter of fact, he actually _is_ excited about it. "I am very much looking forward to it, grandfather", he hesitates, "but are you sure that I will really meet all of these people one day?"

His father chuckles. "You know, father, Charles has read all about the great houses of Britain."

Both men laugh heartily and his grandfather beckons Charles over to where he is sitting.

"Perhaps it will take a few years until you are promoted to being a footman but you are a good boy, Charles. Clever and kind and helpful." He inhales the smoke of his pipe. "I have talked to his Lordship about you and he trusts my judgement. He will keep an eye on you and allow you to assist him during the hunt or at larger parties."

Charles' eyes open wide. "Thank you, grandfather." Soon he will be no longer be regarded as a small boy but more like a grown-up, entrusted with proper work. He cannot wait until April comes.

His grandfather relights his pipe with a shaking hand.

A faded photograph on the mantelpiece of their fireplace shows three generations of Carsons': Edward Carson, George Carson and Charles Carson. All three of them had been loyal servants to the Earl of Grantham for generations. Elsie takes the frame into her hands to have a closer look at the faces that are forever frozen in time. Charles looks like his grandfather now, a kind and friendly face, impressive brows, upright posture, pride in his view. When the picture was taken, his grandfather had already known about his condition. Charles had told her so. She also knows that young Charles had helped the butler whenever his assistance was required. From a very early age he has had an insight of what it meant to be the head of the household. He had watched his grandfather, had witnessed how he hid his shaking hands from everyone. Although the memories were buried for decades, they resurface now. He remembers the shame, the embarrassment, the humiliation. And of course he thinks that he shares this fate.

From all the servants at Downton Abbey, Elsie is the only one who knows Charles entire life story. Knows about his parents, his grandfather, stories from his childhood and of course about the years he has spent away from Downton.

Some, like Mrs Patmore, who has been with the family for almost as long as Charles, know bits and pieces. Lord Grantham has grown up alongside the butler and the Dowager Countess was Charles' first employer back in the late 1870s. But he has always kept certain aspects of his past hidden and, most importantly, never poured out his heart while being in the Crawley's employ.

The one time he had left the security of Downton had caused him nothing but heartbreak. And the full extent of that story is only known to Elsie because she had not been able to let it go, had continued to ask questions to invade Charles' privacy more than was good for both of them. But in the end, he had realized that she only meant well and that entrusting her his secrets would help mend the wounds that were still very much open after all these years.

Of course there had always been rumours amongst the staff, stories whispered behind his back, but if that story had not caused Charles to lose his reputation and the respect of those working under his command, Elsie does not know what else could cause him any harm. Certainly not his current condition. Had not he mentioned that it runs in the family? All the Carson men had suffered from the tremors and yet they were never thrown out of the house, never lost Lord Grantham's trust. It may have finished their careers and Elsie knows all too well what that can do to anyone working in their profession. Ethel is the best example for what can happen to you if you do not play by the unwritten rules of being in service. She learned it the hard way and only survived because people took pity on her and gave her a second chance.

Elsie puts the picture frame back onto the mantelpiece and turns her attention back to the main reason why she has entered their living room. The collection of books on their bookshelves is small and modest but nonetheless varied in genre. Readings has always calmed her, transported her mind elsewhere, away from the troubles and worries of the day. She takes the large edition of "Burke's Peerage" from the shelf, a Christmas gift from the family in 1919. It is too heavy to be read in bed but it will be the perfect escape for him tonight.

Charles is still busy in the kitchen, preparing some tea for their evening together. Another task she has entrusted him with, to distract him and to show him that he is not useless. Even if he should accidentally break their china, it is replaceable, they can buy new cups and plates if must be.

"Elsie?" He calls from their small kitchen. "I am afraid you have to help me carry the tray." His voice is still laced with some frustration.

"Give me a moment, please." She puts the book on the small table, opens it on a random page, then heads down the three small steps into their kitchen. "Why don't you go ahead and I'll follow in a minute?"

He simply shrugs his shoulders and disappears into the living room.

Elsie waits for a reaction before she follows him.

"Is there a reason why you have laid out the book?" His head appears in the doorway.

"I'll explain in a minute if you'll let me pass with our tea." He settles back into his armchair and lets Elsie through.

Their living room is about the size of her office at Downton. They have furnished it with two armchairs and a small couch as well as a table and two bookshelves. She has lit the fire and additionally switched on the large standard lamp that stands close by his armchair.

"This is the volume Lord Grantham gifted me." He touches the pages carefully, puts the book in his lap. "I have always wanted my own copy. Ever since I was a young boy. He must have remembered that."

Elsie smiles to herself while she pours them both a cup of warm, soothing sweet tea.

"I used to borrow the copy that Lord Grantham has in the library." He turns the pages, opens the book at the beginning. "And then read it in the stables. Preferably in the hay loft." And finally the gleam is back in his eyes and the mischievous smile on his lips is for real now and not only there to please her and ease her mind.

"You were a naughty young boy then!" She hands him his tea which he takes with his left hand.

"I always took good care of the books I borrowed. There was never a scratch or a torn page. And my father had given me that waxed piece of cloth to protect my schoolbooks from getting dirty or wet."

Elsie tried to imagine Charles as a young boy, not different from the photograph. A lad running around the stables, helping his father with the horses, his grandfather at the house. Always eager and willing to learn something new, to broaden his mind.

"I bet you did take good care. You always do that with everything you own."

For a while they simply enjoy their tea and the chance to spend a quiet evening together. Every now and then he turns a page and his fingertips touch the printed words. He seems lost in memories of his past, of the times when he was still carefree, lived from one day to the other, not a worry in the world to trouble him.

"I wanted to remind you of something, Charles." Now seems the perfect moment, Elsie thinks. "And I guess you have already found out by yourself why I have selected this book. I wanted you to remember that despite everything, we all care for you deeply. No one thinks you are a burden or a laughing-stock. And all these people you have served for so many years, they will all remember you as a great butler. It is the character we remember, isn't it? Not a silly illness."

Charles smiles warmly at her. "Thank you, my darling. You have been wonderful today. And you kept me steady."

"You can read to me, if you want. I want to know all about the great houses of Britain." Elsie tries her best to sound convinced and very interested.

Charles chuckles at her suggestion but then starts telling her all about the many Lords and Ladies, adds additional information, historical facts. And some stories from long ago, when he had just been a simple hallboy.

* * *

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N another update from me! Thank you to everyone who's still following this little story :)._

 **Chapter 05**

They kiss slowly, passionately, savouring the moment. His mind is no longer focusing on the tremor or the smashed inkwell. In this very moment it is only her who matters, nothing else and no one else. Had they told him a year ago that he would have such an intimate and fulfilling relationship with his wife at his age, he would have laughed it off, called the person a naïve fool. Of course it had always been at the back of his mind: that small hope that perhaps she wanted more than just his company, that they would experience and share the same pleasures as younger couples. But Charles had never truly believed that this dream would actually come true. And now they were not only partners, companions, but also lovers.

He still remembers their careful, shy advances during their first night spent as husband and wife. A hotel room away from Downton Abbey, the first time they had left the house for a day off in years. And the very first time they spent that time together. Traditionally the senior staff coordinated their free days so that one of them was always present at the house. Charles had even forgotten when he last had taken the liberty of having a time all to himself.

But here they were, alone at last, away from Downton on their honeymoon. Both inexperienced, nervous and filled with too many expectations. Nonetheless, they had tried their best but had given up in the end, after much laughter and childish giggles. Both were grateful that the other understood the nervousness, the unfamiliar situation. The second night, when they had both not been as anxious and tensed up, had been a wonderful, memorable experience.

After almost a year of marriage they have now found their rhythm. Today it is just small touches, kisses, lying in each other's arms. Being close to her makes him forget everything. It is just them, her sweet lips, the tiny giggle that escapes her mouth when he gently strokes her thigh. His hands roam across her body, touches her side, her breasts through her nightgown. She pulls his face down to kiss him once more, then rests her head on his shoulder, kisses his collarbone. He has one leg between hers and their bodies are pressed together, entangled between the sheets.

He turns on his back, lifts her up with him so that she now lies on top of him, laughing out loud. "I love you, my darling", he whispers into her ear. Their noses touch. Her lips find his mouth again for another slow kiss before she slides off him and snuggles close to him, one arm draped across his chest.

"I love you too, Charlie."

Marrying her was the best decision he had ever made in his life.

They arrive at the house early the next day. Well rested, both with a healthy glow on their faces from the quick walk through the wintery landscape. Elsie quickly hangs her coat and then retreats to her sitting room while he makes sure everything is in order with the upstairs breakfast and the tea trays for the ladies.

Mrs Patmore stares at him as if she has never seen him before, Daisy hides a smile behind her hand and Mr Molesley almost runs into him when Charles leaves the kitchen to enter his pantry.

"My, my, they're back to their usual routine." The cook shakes her head and looks around the kitchen door, follows Mr Carson's movements until he closes the door behind him. "I wish I had made that bet with Mr Barrow last night."

"What kind of bet, Mrs Patmore?" Elsie's stern voice makes the cook jump. "I hope you are not talking about Mr Carson or me."

"Who said something about a bet?" Mrs Patmore blushes and fails to hide her embarrassment.

"In case you want to enter one tonight, tell Mr Barrow that you bet that we will arrive here every morning at our usual time." She bites her lip to stop herself from breaking character but Mrs Patmore has already noticed that the housekeeper is simply teasing her.

"I'll let him know." And she bursts into such a joyous laughter that Elsie has to join in. "Oh I am glad you're both well. I was worried after yesterday's incident."

"Let's talk about it later. I have work to do now. And so have you." She turns to address Daisy. "And I want to speak to you too, before luncheon." With these words she leaves them standing in the kitchen, dumbfounded.

"What was that all about?" Daisy stares at the empty doorway Mrs Hughes has left behind.

"Search me!" Mrs Patmore shakes her head.

She enjoys all the shy looks that everyone throws at them during breakfast. The satisfaction it gives her is kind of refreshing after yesterday's pent-up tension. Charles is his normal self this morning and engrossed in a conversation with Mr Barrow over next week's deliveries. Even Mr Molesley has joined them this morning, a rare sigh these days.

Daisy pours her some tea, Charles right leg touches her own underneath the table. The morning has not been that relaxed for a long time. He turns to look at her, a small smile is playing on his lips and it makes her blush slightly. Memories of the previous night come to her mind, of falling asleep in his arms, of being kissed awake in the morning. He is in a better place today, so much more at ease.

Slowly she lets her hand slip from the table on her lap and from there towards his knee. Elsie watches his face the moment she touches his knee, then squeezes it gently. He almost spills his tea. They have not played this little game for weeks and she has missed it. His reaction tells her in no uncertain terms that he has missed it as well. Elsie wonders briefly whether any of the other servants sitting around the table have ever noticed what their butler and housekeeper were doing in plain sight but hidden from prying eyes. She observes their faces. Mr Molesley is deep in conversation with Ms Baxter. Mr Barrow, who's sitting on Anna's chair for the time being is now talking quietly to Mr Bates. A rare sight, even for Elsie. It is a pleasant surprise to see them having a proper conversation. Half a year ago that would never have been possible at all. There was too much mistrust, hatred even, between them.

Her hand is still resting comfortably on his knee when Charles turns his attention to her. He smiles and lets his right hand, the one that causes him the most discomfort, disappear beneath the table where he entwines their fingers.

"We should discuss the partridge hunt later. Lord Grantham has decided to invite a small party over at the end of next week."

"That is very last minute." She drinks some of her tea, acts normal although the fact that he has joined her little game floods her with so much joy that she has trouble concentrating.

"Indeed it is. But we will manage." He winks at her then removes his hand. The entire interaction leaves her a bit breathless.

Within twelve hours her husband has transformed back into the man she married almost a year ago The dark demons from the previous days seem to have vanished. For how long they stay away from them neither of them knows. But she is thankful and relieved that he his emotional state has improved. The slow seduction last night, the reminder about his happy childhood, the book and the quiet evening together in the safety of their home have worked wonders. All he needed was some distraction. On the long run this won't always solve the problems they will undoubtedly face in the weeks to come. She is well aware of that. But if she can manage to rebuild his self-confidence bit by bit by showing him how much he is loved and respected, then every little thing that helps him to overcome his fear of being a failure is an improvement.

"Of course we will manage. Don't we always. But don't let Mrs Patmore hear that you've said that. After all, she has the largest workload to handle.

He simply grins.

"What? And how come I am only informed of this now?" Mrs Patmore is, as expected, furious.

"Lord Grantham only told Mr Barrow this morning. We've all been surprised by it." Elsie tries to calm the cook. "I will speak to her Ladyship about the guest list before luncheon and let you know straightaway how much there is to prepare."

"Why in heavens name are they doing this?" Mrs Patmore storms off into the storeroom cupboard, leaving behind a stunned housekeeper and Daisy.

"Well this was almost as I'd expected her to react." Elsie can still hear the cook's cursing. "But that gives us a chance to have a little chat, Daisy."

"Have I done something wrong, Mrs Hughes?" The assistant cook has no resemblance anymore to the shy, submissive kitchen maid from ten years ago, but sometimes she still reacts like her.

"Don't worry Daisy. Only Mrs Patmore can and will judge you should she ever have a reason to. I just want to talk to you about yesterday." She beckons the young woman over to follow her into her sitting room.

Daisy is strangely tensed up while she sits on the edge of the chair Elsie has offered her. It is the unfamiliar request? Is it the memories of the times Daisy has been in Charles' pantry receiving a dresings down for one of her foolish actions? There had been a few in the past where she had done something wrong without thinking about the consequences. Like lying for Ms O'Brien and Thomas or for speaking her mind about Mr Mason at the auction.

"Daisy you've been a great help yesterday." Elsie starts and she can clearly see that the assistant cook is slowly relaxing once she realizes that this conversation is heading towards a positive outcome and not another scolding.

"Have I? I only told you that something was wrong with Mr Carson. Nothing else." She moves further up the chair, does not sit on the edge any longer.

"But you could have told someone else and we both know how fast gossip travels in this house."

Daisy slowly understands what Elsie is saying. "I only wanted to help. Mr Carson has always been kind and fair to me." She hesitates before she continues. "Even when I had clearly done something utterly wrong and punishable."

"Thank you Daisy. It means a lot to us. Mr Carson trusts you and so do I." Elsie reaches out to touch the woman's hand.

"I hope he gets better or that it does not get really bad. I will miss him once Thomas has taken over."

"We will all miss him and thank you for saying that, Daisy."

The week passes by swiftly. Charles has taken heart and ignores the tremors most of the time. He has a task to fulfil, a hunting weekend to prepare and this needs meticulous planning. What has come at an already busy time of year, completely unexpected, has given him new courage. Elsie tries her best to make his evenings as relaxed as possible. But naturally it has also taken a toll on her. Often they go straight to bed after their return home from Downton, fall asleep moments after he has switched off the lights. The night before the large event Charles leaves their bathroom after Elsie has finished her nightly routine and the sight that awaits him when he enters their bedroom warms his heart. His wife has fallen asleep with a book in her hand. Her head rests on his pillow and her hair has come lose. She looks beautiful and he is so sorry that he puts her through all of this; that she has hardly any time to rest properly.

Careful not to wake her, he takes her book, paces it on his bedside table then removes her reading glasses. She stirs but does not wake when he climbs into bed next to her. He has to shift her head a bit and intuitively she moves it to lie on his chest, her favourite resting place for the night. He pulls the duvet up, covers them both and turns off the lamp on his side of the bed.

"Goodnight my love", a whispered kiss on her brow. Tomorrow he will show them that he can still handle a large party with ease, that he might suffer from an incurable condition but it does not affect his ability to plan such an event with the necessary care and efficiency.

Mr Barrow will learn from him. Still, what Charles has accomplished within one short week takes years to learn, not only a few weeks or months. There is still a lot of work ahead of them. More training for Mr Barrow and many long evenings going through the books to ensure he teaches the young man everything he knows. But they will manage. Charles has gained new confidence. And with a lot of positive energy he falls into a dreamless sleep.

Elsie wakes a few hours later, wondering when Charles came to bed and where her book is. She must have fallen asleep while he was in the bathroom. She closes her eyes again, enjoys the warmth of his body underneath her head, the slow rising and falling of his chest, the quiet breathing. She is relieved that he has found new courage and although it took her a lot of strength to push him through the week, to always be there for him, she knows that he will return the love she has given him tenfold. Elsie snuggles closer to his side, slips a hand beneath the waistband of his pyjama trousers and falls back asleep. A busy day awaits them tomorrow.

* * *

TBC... _please let me know what you think because this chapter really gave me headaches. My head refused to remember any vocabulary so it all sounds more like a ten year old has written it ;)._


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